Auschwitz Revisited
by robotron
Summary: Auschwitz is not all it seems to Turner...
1. Chapter 1

The Year is 1942...

A man in full Nazi regalia steps into a damp underground hallway. The lights flicker and bits of dust fall on him from the ceiling.

"How long deez bombings been going on?"

A young officer answers, "Bout three days, worst of it's gone by now."

"Good. I'm gettin' outta here soon. Moving me to a camp. Dis place called Auschwitz. Sounds like hell on earth."

"Dat's what I hear, sir."

"I ain't no sir, I'm just a guy doin' my duty."

The man turns sharply to his right and marches forward a step.

"Turner!" a man calls from the end of the hallway.

"Dat's me, time to finally face..."

AUSCHWITZ.

He steps onto the train at the end of the tunnel and bids farewell to the battlefront.

"I won't miss dis place, dat's for sure."

The train lurches forward and Turner falls into his seat. The man sitting next to him introduces himself.

"Da name's Hamilton, good ta meet ya."

"Turner, charmed."

"I hear dis place Auschwitz is like no other place on earth. The jews there, like dogs. _Human _dogs..."

"My kinda place."

Turner grins an evil grin as they make their way toward...

AUSCHWITZ.


	2. Chapter 2

As the train pulls into the station at Auschwitz, Turner looks to Hamilton.

"Looks like we're here. Nice to know ya."

Hamilton stands up to tuck his shirt in and does not respond, merely grimaces. The two men step onto the platform and fall into line with the other new guards. A tall man in a big hat at the front of the line yells, "Turner, Hamilton, to the front."

The two men look at each other and think, "Oh sheesh, already wit dis guy."

As they walk toward the man, they look at his nametag, General Bishop.

"Gentlemen, I have a special assignment for you two. You will be in charge of keeping the toughest bunk in this camp in control. These men are survivors. They won't give up and you can't break them. We've allowed them 'special privileges' that we'll explain later."

"Sounds like fun," Turner replies with his evil grin.

"IT MAY SOUND LIKE FUN BUT THIS IS SERIOUS FUCKING BUSINESS, IF ONE OF THESE MEN GETS LOOSE THE WHOLE CAMP COULD BE IN DANGER."

"My kinda action," says Turner again.

"I'd be surprised if these boys didn't break even you, Turner, you tough old dog. Hamilton! Turner here is gonna keep an eye on you, you do whatever he says, dammit."

"YES SIR!" uttered Hamilton.

Bishop responds, "Go on and head to the HQ for briefing, I'll have Sanchez meet you there."

The two men head on down to HQ and Sanchez is waiting for them. Sanchez is a younger Mexican officer who has an eagle's wit but little experience. "Hey guys, now that you're here, let's get started. OK, Bishop may have told you about certain 'special privileges' some of the men in your area get. These 'privileges' are actually codeword for a secret bareknuckle boxing circuit that exists within the camps. This camp is basically the big leagues, so get ready guys."

Turner looks to Hamilton, "My kinda place indeed."

Hamilton gulps.

"Now that you've got your briefing, let's go ahead and get started."

The two men follow Sanchez as he walks out of the dusty hut they're in, out into the sunlight.

"This is the yard, it's where most of the prisoners hang out."

Turner looks out into the yard where many of the Jews are pumping iron and practicing on punching bags. Many of them are all musclebound and look ready for just about anything.

"In time, you'll get to know each one. Not bad guys, just tough as coffin nails. That there is Bruiser, he's kind of a local legend, took down a mountain lion last spring, hell of a fighter that man. Over there is Mitch, once punched out a horse. That's Bruno, Blitz over there, this here is Thunder, and so on and so on. No time for all introductions now though, there's a fight going on we just gotta catch."

"How'd they all get like dis?" queried Turner.

Sanchez replies, "With nothing else to do all day, they just decided to get all shredded up. Just their nature I guess."

They make their way across the yard and Turner notices the guards in the towers. Down on the ground floor with the prisoners, he feels a bit like an animal himself. They step into a big shack and inside is a fighting arena. There are Jews cheering everywhere in the makeshift stands built from the multitude of old food crates. Two men are battling it out in the center of the ring as a guard stands referee with his firearm ready."

Sanchez cuts in, "That's Mack on the right, a grizzled old fighter who's seen more days in the ring than he has the light of day. Looks like he's taking on the newcomer, just arrived from another camp."

The newcomer is obviously quicker and more agile than Mack, the old man. He dodges and swoops out of the way of Mack's punches, returning a few blows of his own to Mack's chin. Eventually, the old man falls to his knees and surrenders.

The referee guard speaks up, "The newcomer scores a win! What's ya name, kid?"

He replies, "The Kid."

"Good show kid, keep it up."

The Kid walks out of the ring, right past Sanchez, Hamilton, and Turner, who are waiting to speak to the ref. He glares at Turner as he passes, almost as if he already hates him. Turner stares back with a smirk.

"So, you the new guys? Da name's Hardeman. I been reffin' dis circuit for goin' on 3 years now, ever since da old ref died. Poor bastard was torn apart during a threeway match dat got outta hand. Learned our lesson there I guess, damn hard one to learn though... He was a good man... Rest in peace you old rogue warrior... But enough about that."

Hardeman wipes the tears away from his eyes.

"We gotta get you boys ready. Turner, ya first fight is tomorrow, Hamilton, I want you to be watching and shadowing his every move."

Turner says, "Well if I'm reffin' tomorrow, where are you goin'?"

Hardeman responds, "I ain't going nowhere and you ain't doin' no reffin'. You're here to fight."


End file.
